


Sophia Wasn't His

by peanutlee33



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutlee33/pseuds/peanutlee33
Summary: My extended take on Carol's confrontation with Daryl at his campsite, over Lori’s disappearance in Season 2, following Sophia's unfortunate discovery. Never was hidden sexual tension more obvious, between two characters.





	1. Sophia Wasn't His

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, those of you who've left me kudos over the original work. Much appreciated :)  
> I have since revised this piece, as I was sorely dissatisfied with its original flow. Which was missing the exact emotional impact and sexual tension I'd wanted between them, which also btw, was depicted or hinted at, in the actual scene of that episode, but couldn't quite factor at the time. The story is now accurate and complete in its content, and I am quite pleased. 
> 
> I absolutely fell in love with this epic scene, from season 2, that I felt prompted to write a fanfiction version that would engage Caryl shippers. As goes with episodic drama... action that should have happened but didn't. (for any number of their reasons or excuses :) 
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Walking Dead characters. This is purely a work of fiction, inspired by episodic events.

The evening should have been pleasantly calm and peaceful for a change, but Rick and Glenn had left to search for Hershel after Beth collapsed into a coma. And then Shane left in a rush to go out looking for Lori, after she became noticeably absent from the group’s brief round table discussion, over how to move forward with living plans.

Daryl had already separated himself away to his private campsite, several yards across the field, in the wooded area behind the old barn.

Dale suspected where the hunter had escaped to but said nothing. The father-figure was as aware as the rest of the group, how stubborn the hotheaded archer could be, and frankly let him be. Daryl was quite known by now, to disappear for hours on end, sometimes days.

No one blamed the hunter for separating like this, considering Shane's callous attitude toward him. The awful redneck putdowns the deranged ex-cop generously dished at him, after finding Sophia's doll, but not the little girl herself, rightly fueled the hunter's anger, and left poor Rick to keep the two at bay from killing each other. Like dealing with Merle on the rooftop again.

But Carol was done with Daryl splitting away like this from everyone, despite the Shane ordeal. Her daughter's unfortunate fate was just rotten luck and everyone knew it. Daryl had unnecessarily shouldered the guilt and blame, holding raw onto what he’d promised her at the lakeside, when showing her the Cherokee roses. Despite that he’d meant well. And that’s really what mattered to her.  _I believe she’s still alive, out there, somewhere_

He'd earned his place within the group for his intelligence and outdoor skills, and stepping up as a leader, and Rick’s new right-hand, after Shane proved himself untrustworthy over his Lori obsession and ‘Gotta keep the camp safe’ ego trip. No one challenged the hunter’s methods or decisions.

Hershel's farmland spanned seventy-acres and bore several expansive clearings which served as gathering spots or camping sites for his overnight visitors. So, Carol had a feeling where the hunter was hiding out, away from the group. A clearing about a hundred yards from the barn, near where the memorial for Otis had taken place, the week prior.

She knew Lori had spoken to him earlier in the day, about going to out to look for Rick. So as far as she was concerned, Daryl knew of the woman's whereabouts. 

xxxx

Carol walked breezily under the growing twilight, along the darkening two-track that lead to the passageway of the clearing. Relieved she didn't need to concern over suddenly crossing paths with any walkers that may be roaming about these outer woods. Hershel's land was well-protected by acreages of surrounding linked fencing, so Daryl wouldn't have strayed from the group if there was a risk.

Finally after what seemed like mountains and empty terrains, crossing into infinity, she reached the passageway, and stopped a moment to take a breather and enjoy the pleasing glow from the firelight ahead.  

Proceeding forward, she soon moved into the clearing, and then cautiously peered about the darkened trees and surrounding shadows for any sign of the hunter. But he was nowhere to be found.

She now peered straight ahead, and noticed the shadowy outline of the familiar frame she was seeking, seated by the fire: his back to the world.

xxxx

Daryl sat by the fire, absently poking at the flames and burning logs with a long rod. His mind lost in a whirlwind of disappointment and failure over the week’s events. He'd failed in finding Carol’s missing daughter and knew everyone held it against him. Worse yet---he'd failed  _Carol_. Encouraging her that her daughter was just hiding out somewhere, scared but alive. Creating false promises that Sophia would be found, after gone missing for a week.

He’d fucked up this time and there was no coming back from that. All that wasted backbreaking search effort for a missing kid who’d turned up a dead. It all had been plain bullshit that laughed in his face and mocked him for his efforts. Outside the multiple injuries he suffered during the process. 

He’d called Carol a 'stupid bitch', just because she’d cared about him and his injuries. Yea—so he apologized to her afterward, but so what. She'd fucking cared about him and he'd behaved like an asshole. Hell---he weren't no different than Merle, or her dead pig husband. It all just sucked. No, it was plain fucked up. If Merle were here right now, he knew big brother would chew his ass good for getting involved in the mindless search for a missing, frightened kid. And more so for ‘reasoning’ with the others over a ‘closed end trail’. Something Merle would've called out as bullshit, because only the girl’s missing doll had been found - just like Shane.

_How's it feel, lil' brother … bein' so chivalrous toward all these strangers, like this? Helpen' 'em out, when they'd just as soon, crap on your boots. You, jus' take it. Whatever they damned give you, seems. Jus' when the hell you gonna learn, lil’ brother --- That you don't know these people. They ain't never gonna 'cept you as one of them … and you know that. You's dog shit, under their shoes. Thas all they ever gonna see of you… All them years of teachin' ya how to be man... all been a big damned waste of my time…_

Damned Merle. But big brother had been right. It all had been a big damned waste of time. Fuck, he hated it when Merle was right.

And Shane’s cutting remarks over the recover of that stupid doll. Calling him a mindless, methed out hick who didn’t know any better. Fuck him. 

Well, he was done with saving people. They could all just fend for themselves and leave him the hell be. He was fine by himself and didn't need no one. And they didn't need his uselessness.

He now stirred the burning logs again, and tossed in a handful of kindling - growling under his breath.  
  
He was no longer alone.


	2. Rage, Lust, and Sophia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol returns to Daryl's private campsite, meaning business this time. She's not letting him slip away, in spite himself. Is she prepared to meet the dark side of Dixon?

**************  CHAPTER 2  ***************

****

Carol reached the clearing that headed toward the farmhouse, feeling much up to joining the others for their evening chatter and nightcap, but her heart and conscience remained on Daryl.

 

She hated what had just happened back there. It was all so very unnecessary and pitiful.  Just plain ugly that he isolated himself like this.  Too damned much family around him that cared about him to keep hiding away.  Always, always, always, that defensive cocksure attitude of his, overshadowing his good side. Some days it was an honest tossup if he was worse than Shane, like a piss contest almost.

 

She now understood what Rick dealt with, in keeping the peace… and sanity in his marriage.

 

Damn, Daryl had been so kind and comforting past week, since her daughter’s disappearance. Now he was hiding away like a damned coward to avoid dealing with  _anything_  that forced him to ‘feel’ or give a crap anymore.  

 

_‘I ain’t nobody’s’ savior no more’ … ‘I’m done with savin’ people.’_

 

UGH...  it almost drove her batty.

 

And now … the generous corner of her mindset irrationally reasoned with her (like always, dammit).  _H_ _e just needs time away.  To blow off that Dixon steam.  Better than being in someone’s face---_  right?

Damned conscience! Just  _once_  it needed to leave her the hell be.  Let HER be the tough guy.  Ed could no longer knock her around or tormentor her. She could finally stand tall and take charge.  Be the woman she always fantasized; bold and direct with others. Daryl was a damned grown man who should have control over his demons by now, yet still lashed out at anyone that unwittingly resembled his overbearing brother.  It honestly was a _blessing_  that Merle was missing – in spite that the reality of it stung like a bee, to Daryl's crotch.

 

She hadn't known Merle that long, but certainly witnessed enough of his behavior at the quarry to concur why everyone avoided him at cost.

 

The man openly exploited his vulgarities without shame or remorse--particularly his very public urinations when the ladies were present.  As though he had something to prove.

 

His most despicable behavior was his poor treatment of his own kin.  It irked her to hell and back how cruelly he patronized Daryl. Calling his kind younger brother “boy” or worse …  ‘ _Derlena’_. Which she rightfully presumed was a mock derivative of his given name.

 

And Merle mercilessly swagged Daryl about banging one of the young gals “to get it out of his system and finally be a man.”

 

Thankfully, in spite, Daryl was the gentleman of the two, and usually ignored his brother's teasing taunting.  Which, she conjectured, was the only reason he'd never called his brother out on his crap. Darned sake, his sense avoided an all-out rumble in front of the others.

 

At least the camp had the good sense realized that Daryl was the good guy, and treated him with a ting of respect.

 

Obviously Merle wasn't around anymore to continue spoiling things for Daryl, and Atlanta was near two weeks behind them as they slowly settled into Hershel’s farmhouse. So, they were thankfully becoming like a real family finally.  No more need for further temperaments.

 

Yes, there were the rare moments one of them _would_ step out of line… as Shane had done to Rick a few times, and as Daryl had done with her earlier. But it was still a changed world.

 

They stuck together and survived together, what was left of this existence… or they died alone … and miserable.

 

 - - - - - - - - 

 

She now reached the porch, and as a foot was about to touch the bottom step, her personal will overcame her better senses and she at once turned around on her heels and headed straight back to Daryl's campsite. 

 

He wasn't slipping away like this. She wouldn't have it! He'd become far too important to the group—earning his place as a leader. The stubborn hunter needed to face himself and accept the new reality of real family; become the man she knew he was capable of…  
  
_You’re every bit as good as them._  

Yes he was … and needed to realize that.

 

Soon reaching the moonlight silhouetted trail, she entered the secluded campsite and stayed alert.  There was no telling how the hunter was going to react to her presence again … considering earlier.

 

As she glanced about the place, she was met with only stilled darkness - silhouetted by the nearby fire.  But something was very different in the air. A something she couldn't quite place at the moment, but it wasn't anything uncomfortable or threatening.  

 

Peering ahead toward the fire pit, she expected to see the hunter still stoking his flames like earlier.  But he wasn’t there. 

 

In fact, the place appeared literally deserted. 

 

She now glanced to her left where his zipped-up tent was situated, and cautiously moved in closer to listen for any sounds of snoring. But was met with only echoing sounds of the going fire.

 

She moved to her right … and now took notice of a very long clothes line that was strung between two huge trees, and was dead amazed she hadn’t run into it earlier.

 

On it hung several laundered garments alongside a line of dead squirrels she knew Daryl would later skin and then cook for his dinner.  And … something else that curiously caught her eye.

 

Moving in for a better look, she momentarily studied the article but couldn't immediately identify it, and furrowed confused. It was obviously some sort of necklace he'd made, but it was nothing familiar she'd ever seen. Just a row of pointy things all hooked together.

 

As she moved around the dangling article, studying it curiously—recollection suddenly grabbed at her and she frowned in disgust as bile started up her throat.  The pointy things were  _dead walker ears_  he'd had collected from his kills. 

 

Slowly now she stepped back from the putrid adornment - as though it would place some weird hex on her for her over-curiousness ...

 

… and against something warm and solid.

 

"The hell you doin’?" a familiar gruff growled from behind.  

 

Startled, she whipped around ... to find a very unfriendly-looking Daryl in her face, and she nearly lost her footing. 

 

Quickly catching her breath, she stepped back to give some ample space, but he now moved around her like a stalking animal.

 

“I’m keeping an eye on you.” She said as calmly as she could muster, though suddenly quizzical over apparent nervousness when she shouldn't be. For the life of her she wasn't afraid of him, but knew enough of his temperament to brace herself for any momentary outburst.

 

“Is that a fact.” He responded coldly. “Who told you to—huh?  Who told you to be my keeper?  Suddenly you think I need lookin’ after, like a little kid or sum'um.” Backing her into the clothesline with piercing eyes.

 

She felt heat rise from his skin as he loomed over her frowning, and normally she wouldn't mind this kind of moment—especially with him  (hell, she’d fantasized it a hundred times over). But he wasn't her lover and he wasn’t being flirty. This was hostile aggression and it was going to test her patience. 

 

“You’re not a little kid, Daryl. Don't be that way. Everyone needs looking after.” She managed to reply calmly, as his breathing labored.

She managed to reply calmly, as his breathing labored.

 

Suddenly, strange vibes were ringing about the air—the same vibes she'd felt moments earlier, on entrance. And it both worried and intrigued her. What the hell was going on?  Was he secretly attracted to her, and this was his way of expressing it?  No other logical reason for him to be in her face like this…

“You shouldn’t be alone, Daryl.  It isn’t healthy.”

  
“Why do  _you_  care so much?  It's not like you cared about saving your daughter." He scowled.  
  
“There’s no need to get nasty here, Daryl. This is a friendly visit, and yes—I do care.”

 

He placed one hand on his hip and the other on the clothesline behind her, which she told herself was nothing to get alarmed over.  

“I’m not leaving you alone. It isn’t right and you know it.”  
  
“Yea--? And you assume it’s  _your_  company I want around. Well I don’t!” He snapped while stepping aside.

 

“I don’t see anyone else here caring over your whereabouts.  Someone has to.” She replied back sharply.

"Oh—ain’t you just a peach." he snarled. But a definite change in his eyes and tone. Perhaps that was a good thing.  He was definitely hurting from earlier events, but something was … different.

 

Truth-be, he was disappointed she  _hadn't_  stumbled into his arms a moment ago.  Damn, he would've have been game with that … like a romantic hero seeking opportunity or excuse to have an attractive woman fall against him, even if he wasn't sure just how in the hell he would've responded, considering he was no romance bitch. But no-less the tease and sex of the game still intrigued him.

  
Now Carol almost pitied the dark sadness that lurked behind his hurting eyes: a lonely man desperate to “feel” but taught to internalize because no one was gonna give a shit. This time there would be no forehead kiss. Daryl wasn’t laid up in Hershel’s guest bed, covered in side wounds and head bandages from multiple injuries.  

Something different was needed to reach his emotional core.  


"I'm not going to let you slip away, Daryl. You've earned your place. I wish you’d just talk to me as a friend.”  

 

But the Dixon teapot was having none of her good intentions. 

 

"You know...if you spent half as much time tending your own business instead of sticking yer nose in everyone else's—your daughter might still be alive!"

Normally such words would cut her deep. But he was shouldering failure as a hero instead of embracing a loss.

People died.  That’s how it was in this changed world. Hell, it could have been Carl who’d run off and then got bit and turned, and now Rick and Lori would be grieving a loss instead of her. 

 

"Okay… Go on...."

She responded calmly while shaking back the coldness viding off from him. That, and secretly readying herself for any socking he’d throw her way—knowing full-well with whom she was dealing.

 

It was better to get it out of his system now, then carry his chip around forever.

 

"Go on and what?" he merely snarled back with denial, then barked, throwing up an arm in irritation. “Look ... just GO! I don't want you here!" 

No response. 

"What … you now gonna make this about my daddy or some crap like that?" 

_S_ _hit_.  He'd said too much. Time for damage control.  

"Well, you don't know nothin’!  Just go back to wherever it is you came from!" 

 

Now her curiosity was peaked, and she studied his cold, dark, hard eyes with compassion.

This was supposed to be over losing her daughter and he's now dipped in ... his wrecked childhood? 

 

Well, her silence only fueled his anger ... and suddenly he was in her face with a stabbing finger. "You're a real piece of work, lady!" followed by deliberate redirect. "You're afraid!  You're afraid, cause you're all alone!  Hell---I could take you down  _right now_ … no fuss!"

 

Amazingly now, it was all the maternal side of her could do to not throw her arms around him and hug him tight. Until all the anger was squeezed from his system.  

 

"You're pathetic!  Just look at you. You got no husband… no daughter. You're all alone! … You got no one to wipe your whiney tears …  _or,_  your sorry ass!" up in her face once again. 

 

She merely folded her arms in response and angled her head slightly. 

That did it. 

 

"You ain't my problem!  Get it?!" he spewed angrily, his temper boiling. Then stepped back but a moment, as hard eyes remained nailed inside hers. 

 

… "SOPHIA WASN'T MINE!!!" 

 

But only silence.  And the Dixon tempest exploded _._  

 

"ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS KEEP YOUR DAMNED EYE ON HER FOR ONE MOMENT – JUST ONE DAMMED MOMENT AND SHE’D STILL BE ALIVE—‼!"

Two fists suddenly in fight-mode, almost striking her—the blow to the face she instinctually braced ... almost … but thankfully didn't happen.

 

Daryl now backed away, his eyes never leaving hers—rightly filled with shame and raw emotion. Choking whatever dignity his being still spared.

 

She merely glared at him, in pity and disgrace. It wouldn't have sufficed better, had he pushed her or shoved her backward—like dealing with some punk dude who’d gotten him riled for a fight. 

 

Men simply did not hit women. That was the undeniable hard n fast rule. Daryl knew he'd fucked up bad this time. Just reacted like a total asshole, and had no excuse.  Hell, even Merle would have had his ass on the ground for this.  

Suddenly he felt lower than shit, and _wanted_  Carol to slap him.  Kick him even.  He'd deserved it.  And he'd found himself about to say so, but his damaged pride prevented his mouth from speaking the words.

  
Carol composed herself as thoughts processed the price she'd almost just paid.

 

Yea, he’d almost hit her just now, but he wasn’t Ed.  This was a one-time occurrence—accidental, from built-up wounded emotions needing an outlet. As Merle wasn't around for that.

 

“Yea… I miss her too.” Was all she responded straight and comfortingly.

 

But Daryl only paced a bit, as his thoughts tumbled now

He'd unleashed the side of him he never wanted her to know... and now his heart was threatening to crack.  And he fought back from hating himself, as they stood across from each other in collective silence. 

 

*******

 

Now it was her turn to speak, and he was going to listen if it killed him.


End file.
